A/N: Again, my medical knowledge is pretty poor. I did a little research into this, and while I don't go into explicit details, there may well still be errors.

Although all of these ficlets are interconnected, this one is picks up right where "You can't ask me to do that" left off.

awesomegreentie requested, "This is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

In the end, they didn't stay in the hospital for the night. It was John's mother who insisted on it, saying that Anna needed to get home and grab some rest, and that they could regroup in the morning.

Anna knew that there was no sleep to be had.

She dropped John's mother off at her home. The old lady stood uncertainly by the car, her face pale and drawn.

"Will…will I see you tomorrow?" she asked anxiously.

"Of course you will. Don't worry. I'll still take you to the hospital to see John. He may not want to see me anymore, but I'm not going to let you make your own way there." By the end of her sentence, her voice was cracking anew, and his mother's face was even more creased with worry as she reached through the open car door to hug her fiercely.

"Johnny doesn't mean it," she said. "He's not right in the head, drugged up with the pain. He doesn't mean it."

Anna could only smile weakly. If there was one thing she'd learnt over the years of knowing and loving John Bates, it was that he always meant what he said.

There was nothing else to do. After walking John's mother to the door as she always did, Anna made the short trip across town to her own flat. The place had never looked so lonely and uninviting. Numbly, she went about her nightly routines, slipping between cold sheets and staring into the darkness.

The tidal wave of grief hit her then, and she buried her head in the pillow that still smelled like him, muffling her sobs. Her whole body heaved with the strength of them. She cried to the point of exhaustion, and yet she still couldn't sleep. It was difficult to believe that this was the end, that despite how fiercely they loved each other, they were never going to have the future that Anna had started to envisage a long time ago.

When three o'clock in the morning neared, Anna dragged herself out of bed and made herself a cup of cocoa. Sitting with the mug cradled between her palms at the kitchen table, she rubbed at her temples. However callous he had been, it did not shut off the valve to her brain that made her love him. He could not stop her worrying about him, or fearing for him with the horrors he was likely suffering right at this very moment.

Fear.

And, just like that, the way was illuminated to her. Springing to her feet so quickly that the chair toppled over backwards and landed with a resounding bang, she raced back to the bedroom without even bothering to pick it up. Once there, she ferreted through her jewellery box until she found what she was looking for, staring down at the small circle in the palm of her hand.

She knew what she had to do now.

She called around for John's mother early the next morning. She looked like she hadn't slept a wink either, and Anna fussed over her as she slid into the car.

"You don't need to do that," she said. She was clutching a basket in her old hands, likely filled with all of John's favourite things.

"Of course I do," said Anna. "I know you're John's mum, but you're important to me too, and I know he likes to think you're being looked after."

"And you're John's girl," his mother replied softly. "I know what he said, but he loves you, dear. I know he does."

She took a deep breath. "I've rather a favour to ask of you, if you don't mind."

"Anything," the old lady said at once.

"Could I monopolise John, just for five minutes? I know what he said, but I can't accept it. Not without seeing him one last time."

His mother reached across and patted her knee. "I wouldn't want any less. Of course you can see him first. I can wait outside."

"I don't want to hog the visiting time," she said earnestly. "You deserve to see him more than anyone. But I just…I need…"

"No need to fret, dear. You're the one I need to thank for my boy being so happy."

Anna smiled, and fired up the ignition. The journey to the hospital was made in silence. They enquired at the front desk about John, and were directed to the ward where he was being kept. Doctor Clarkson was waiting for them. He ushered them into a small office and gestured for them to sit. They both declined politely.

"I won't beat around the bush," he said. "The operation was successful. We have managed to reconstruct the kneecap. Mr. Bates will walk again, but it will take time and effort. He has a difficult road ahead of him, and he's going to need every ounce of support that he can get, because he won't navigate this alone."

If there was any sign that Anna needed to confirm that she was doing the right thing, that was it. When the doctor had finished talking, he led them to John's private room.

"He might not be in the best mood for talking," he warned them gently. Anna suspected that he'd come across that fact first hand. "He's very angry at the world at the moment. Try not to take anything to heart."

Anna had already determined that she wouldn't. John's mother nodded at her and moved to take one of the plastic seats on the corridor. Anna took a deep breath, pushed back her shoulders, and stepped inside.

John was lying prostrate on the bed, his sickly features shocking beneath his dark hair. At the sound of her entry he turned his head slightly towards her. The set of his jaw didn't deter her.

"I told you to go away," he growled at her. "I don't want to see you again."

"I don't think you can do much about that right now," she said lightly, pulling a chair over.

"You might be getting a good laugh out of this, but it's not funny to me," he snapped.

"I don't think it's funny. It's the furthest thing from funny."

"Why did you come back?"

"I didn't want your mum to have to deal with a taxi or public transport. She's outside, out of her mind with worry for you. I asked her to give me just a moment of your time before she comes in. There are a few things that I want to say while it's just us two, if you'll allow me to. It won't take much of your time."

He nodded imperceptibly, a grudging acceptance, likely knowing that he couldn't do much else. Anna drew her chair closer, taking a second to formulate the words in her head before pressing on.

"I know you better than anyone else, John. Anyone else. I know that you still sometimes have a sneaky fag if you think you can get away with it. You chew so many peppermints to try and get rid of the taste, but I know when I kiss you. I just never say anything. I know that you like to sleep with me in your arms because it's the only way you sleep for more than an hour at a time. I know that when you can't sleep you stroke your fingers through my hair because it soothes you. I know that just yesterday morning we made love in your bed and you said you never wanted to leave. I know that you're still haunted by the things you saw in Afghanistan, even though you put on a brave front for everyone else. I know that you have anxieties about relationships because Vera screwed with your head, and I know that Vera saw you as worthless when you were injured, that she didn't support you through any of the rehabilitation."

John visibly flinched at his ex-wife's name, his expression closing over. Anna reached out and brushed the hair from his brow. There was something odd about his expression. Almost…terrified. But she couldn't deviate just now. If she did, she'd lose her nerve and everything would be for naught.

She took a deep breath, lowering her voice. "I also know that you're the first person that I've ever told about what went on with my stepfather. I never breathed a word of any of it to another soul, not even to Mary. You're the only one who knows why I went to live with my grandma."

Ever so slowly, John's eyes moved towards her. He wasn't quite meeting her gaze, but she took strength from it nevertheless. It was a step in the right direction. She felt brave enough to reach out for his limp hand, grasping hold of it firmly. He didn't pull away. A victory.

"I know that you're the only man I've ever said I love you to," she whispered. "You're the only man that I've ever dreamed of a future with. A little white picket fence, the two point five children, a family pet. As far as I'm concerned, nothing's changed. I still want my future to be with you. I still want to wake up to your face in the morning and come home to it at night. I still want to cradle your son or daughter in my arms knowing that we made it together. This is an awful time for you, but I'm not Vera. I love you more than anything else in the world. Nothing will ever change that. Not if you lost your leg, not even if you grew another head. Though I admit that that might take a bit of getting used to."

For the first time, John's lips quirked. She knew it was a reluctant gesture, but she took it as another triumph all the same. She squeezed his hand.

"You feel frightened and vulnerable right now. I understand it. God, I understand how you feel better than most people. I might not have had the same experiences, but those feelings never change. Situations can change. And I promise you now, I will love you for the rest of my life. If you can honestly tell me that you don't want to see me anymore, that you don't love me and mean it, then I will get up and walk out of that door without bothering you again. But unless you can do that with conviction, then I will stay here and fight for you for as long as I have to. Do you hear me, John? I will not give up."

John's eyes had filled with tears. He blinked, and they spilled down his face. Anna reached up with her spare hand and brushed them away with the pad of her thumb, moving down to cup his jaw. His chin was thick with stubble. It had always grown in quickly. She directed his gaze towards hers, not allowing him to drop it.

"Say you don't want me," she said simply. "Tell me that you don't love me or want this anymore, and I will leave. I won't be dragged out kicking and screaming. But until I hear you say it, you won't turn me away. Say it if you mean it, John, but don't make yourself a liar."

His mouth worked for a couple of seconds, but it felt like longer; her heart lodged itself in her throat while she waited for him to decide their fate. It all came down to this.

"I can't say it," he whispered at last, and the agony that weighted his words was strong. That didn't matter. What he was saying did. "I can't."

"Good choice, Mr. Bates," she said, her heart nigh on exploding in her chest with her relief and joy. "That's all I need to know. And that leaves just one more question that I need to ask."

"What's that, then?" John said wearily. He looked exhausted by his internal battle. This was it. Anna took a deep breath, easing the tiny piece of jewellery from the pocket of her jeans. It was John's left hand that she was holding, and she brought it up higher, balancing the small gold band between thumb and forefinger.

"This is probably a bad time, but marry me?" she said. John stared at her, utterly gobsmacked.

"What?" he croaked.

Anna did not waver. "Marry me, John Bates. Everything I was just saying, I meant completely. Make me the happiest woman alive by agreeing to marry me. Let me show you that I intend to be by your side no matter what else may come in the future. We've both been broken in the past, but it only makes us fit even better. Do me the honour of becoming my husband."

"I thought it was traditional to get down on one knee," he said.

She laughed, taking his words as a good sign. "I would, only I wouldn't be able to see you from down there. If you accept, I'll propose again the moment you step foot out of here."

"It would be an intriguing sight."

"So does that mean you accept? You'll marry me?"

More tears spilled, and he took a rough breath. "I'd marry you every minute of every day if it was possible."

"It's a nice idea," she said. "But it wouldn't give us much time to do anything else, would it?" She raked her eyes down him, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she still wanted him just the same as she had yesterday.

His laugh was rusty, but it was the most wonderful sound she had heard in a long time. "Yes, Anna May Smith, yes, I'll marry you."

Anna laughed too, and pushed the ring further onto his finger as a mock of a true engagement ring. It had been a gift from her father many, many years before, a faded nine-carat piece that had attracted her eye like shiny things did a magpie. She'd had the band expanded over the years so that she could still wear it, and now it rested on John's little finger, just above the first joint, even his smallest finger thicker than her ring one. He stared down at it in disbelief, and she couldn't wait a second longer to rise, pressing a kiss first to his forehead, and then onto his lips, tears of her own forming behind her closed lids as she breathed in the scent of him.

They still had a long way to go. There would be tears on both sides, frequent and fervent apologies from John as he grappled with the toxic way he had spoken to her before, the pain of him regaining his strength, the beginning of the grindingly slow criminal proceedings as he finally admitted that he had seen the registration plate of the car that had crashed into him, linking right back to Vera. But there would be happy tears too, and so much pride as John made his way slowly and falteringly down the aisle, armed with a cane but with so much love on his face as he waited for his blooming bride.

They had always been better as a united front than two people alone, and from that moment onwards, they were never alone again.